


Five Months, Two Weeks, Two Days

by FrozenHearts



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Avengers are also mentioned, Bisexual Steve Rogers, F/M, Illya and Gaby are mentioned, Jesus Christ this man went through hell, M/M, Minor Wanda Maximoff/Vision, Napoleon was just tortured sorry, Poor Napoleon, Sam's a little shit, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-22 16:33:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4842563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenHearts/pseuds/FrozenHearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha Romanoff and Steve Rogers go to an old army base camp on Fury's orders and find something unexpected. Thy also learn some unexpected facts about how HYDRA worked, as well as the serum used to turn Steve into the perfect human specimen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. At The Base

**Author's Note:**

> So I recently saw The Man From U.N.C.L.E. and it was AMAZING. And I was thinking about how the movie was set during the Cold War, and I for some reason thought of Captain America, thus this came about.
> 
> (Sorry for the bad summary!)

Natasha wasn't entirely sure of what she was looking at. She and Steve had infiltrated an old base camp in New Jersey, under Director Fury's orders. There, it seemed as if time had stopped, with the way Steve had just stopped, a sad look in his eye. The rest of the team was training with Agent Hill, back at the newly improved Avengers base. Hopefully, she'd be able to hold her own with the tag-team that was Wanda and Vision.

But in the old bunker, they had encountered none other than Dr. Zola, who apparently had a knack for getting under Captain America's skin. Supposedly, before the worm's brain was transplanted into the computer, he had worked on a certain Bucky Barnes, helping turn him into the Asset. The Winter Soldier. Unable to hold his anger, Steve had punched a hole in the screen and ripped out a chunk of wires, effectively silencing the ghost.

"Steve, we should go," Natasha was acutely aware of the stiffened bicep when she placed a soothing hand on his arm, how his jaw clenched with anger, fury flashing in his blue eyes. Only for a moment.

"C'mon, Sailor," she resorted to the nickname, pulling him along the hall, away from the computer. A small buzzing rang in her ears, but she ignored it, footsteps pounding against the dirty floor tiles.

Around five minutes later, she saw Steve pick up his head, anger replaced with confusion. Natasha let her hand drop from his arm as he said, "Do you hear that?"

"Seems they forgot to pay their electric bill," Natasha chided, "come _on-_ "

"Seriously, Nat, something's up," Steve's brow furrowed, and Natasha ran after him as he suddenly made a sharp left, disappearing down a dark corridor, save for a few dim, flickering bulbs overhead. The buzzing became louder the longer they went, and soon Natasha found herself smacking her hands over her ears, desperately trying to block out the noise.

"I'm pretty sure they left this place for _dead_ , Rogers," Natasha hissed when she finally caught up to him, "we should go back to base. _Now._ " Steve merely waved a hand at her, and she grudgingly followed. She was _so_ going to make sure she pit him against Wanda later in training. The old man was unable to face her due to her magic, and it was quite comical to watch.

They had reached the end of the hall now, facing a large brown door, bolted shut on both sides. The spy had given up trying to protect her ears and had settled for crossing her arms over her chest. Steve placed an ear to the metal, jumping back as if he had been burned.

"What is it?" Natasha asked.

"The noise is loudest in that room," Steve stated, pushing up his sleeve, a vein raised against his large muscles. Before she could protest, he had (rather obnoxiously) sent a fist through the metal. A thin line of red was vibrant against his pale skin as he withdrew, motioning for Natasha to climb through.

"This better be worth it, Rogers!" Natasha quipped as she slipped through easily, feet landing on the ground with a resounding smack.

No wonder, it seemed, the door was bolted on both sides.

 

                                                                                                       ****

 

They seemed to have entered some sort of laboratory, with desks protected behind glass windows. One rap with her knuckles and Natasha knew neither her nor Popsicle could break through it.

"What was this for, do you know?" Natasha mused. Of course, it was obvious what the lab was used for. She knew, and there was no doubt in her mind that Steve knew. It was nice to feign innocence though, at least once in a while. Thick, rusted chains hung from the ceiling, and a single bulb flew at the end of a wire, spinning almost hypnotically. A small table sat pushed over by the glass, positioned just in front of it, with what looked to be an old scrapbook lying open, black and whites pasted carefully onto a thick paper background. One look through the images and Natasha wanted to gag.

In each photo, men were subjected to, well, _torture_. It was plain as day. One had his nails torn off, with the camera focused expertly on beefy fingers. Next to that was a man being waterboarded, body limp in his captors arms. Natasha felt Steve sidle up to her, glance over her shoulder.

"What's this?" Steve asked, reaching over to turn the page. Natasha clenched her fist, preparing herself for the worst. The previous images were bloody and cruel, somewhat objectionable in the art form of torture. Natasha couldn't even believe she had just called _torture_ an _art form_.

Boy, did she need to get out more.

But as Steve turned the page, and Natasha braced herself, the buzzing grew louder- the loudest she thought it was since they had been in this stinking hellhole. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she could see sparks fly behind the glass window. Odd.

"Seems they weren't done," Steve sighed heavily, fingers tracing tracing the black paper. An entire page had been left blank.

"Ah yes, seems we weren't."

Natasha let her gaze fly towards the drawling voice, only to find a hazy green image on a computer screen, blackened pixels forming a sly grin and beady eyes. Crap; Natasha had been hoping he disappeared after Steve punched his lights out.

Alas, he was still here, going on to explain that his brain was hardwired into every computer at the former army base, whether it be working or not.

"That page we saved special, Captain," the computer hummed, adding at Steve's alarmed look, "Not for you, but it would have been nice, seeing how far you could go."

"Why not me?" Steve poised, "I was literally turned into the perfect human specimen!"

Natasha failed to hide her smirk, rolling her eyes. _Typical Steve_ , she thought, _figuring everything is about him_. The buzzing was incessant, a fly swooping in and out of Natasha's peripheral view. She swatted it away, her skin crawling as the computer droned on.

"That may be, but before you came to us, there were two men. They were on opposite sides of course, with that tiny woman acting as theri stalemate, but-"

"Opposite sides..." Natasha murmured, biting her lower lip. She figured he must be talking about the war. Anyone else would think it one of teh World Wars, but this seemed different somehow-

"At first we were going to grab the girl, but she went back to England," Armin Zola crackled through ehr thoughts, and Steve couldn't help asking hopefully, "Peggy? Peggy Carter? What do you want with her?" The doctor's laugh sent a feeling of dread through Natasha's bones. For some reason it felt colder, as if someone fiddled with the thermostat.

"Not your Miss Carter, Captain," Zola corrected, "Gaby Teller."

Natasha racked her brain- the name wasn't familiar. She knew all the agents who worked for S.H.I.E.L.D., Natasha knew she'd remember everyone. It was in her training. But she couldn't recall a Gaby Teller.

Then it hit her.

"Gaby Teller never worked for S.H.I.E.L.D."


	2. In The Field

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the chapters are kind of short. I originally meant for everything to be in a one-shot or two-shot, but with the way I formatted it I can't really do that anymore. Just bear with me, as I'll update this in small increments.

Steve's eyes seemed to burn holes in her skull, "What? Nat, who's Gaby Teller?"

Natasha ignored him, meeting Zola's deafening stare, a mock gesture to continue. And that he did.

"No, Miss Teller didn't work for S.H.I.E.L.D.- or Hydra, for that matter, which I'm sure is a relief for the both of you. Natasha had to silently agree, as it was. They were already dealing with Bucky. They didn't need another rogue agent on their hands.

"Neither did her cohorts, A Mr. Illya Kurakyin and a Mr. Napoleon Solo."

It was as if the gears in Natasha's head shifted, rattling with unrest. Illya Kurakyin, where had she heard that name before? She could remember skimmin git in a newspaper, but she hadn't bothered paying it any mind. But she knew for sure the name was Russian. But if this Illya was Russian, and Gavy Teller was Bristish, what did that make Napoleon Solo?

As if reading ehr mind, a voice called out, "If you don't stop dawdling, I'm sure to be dead."

"Ah! Mr. Solo!" Zola feigned a cheerful grin, "I see you're awake!"

"And I still don't know who you are," came the retort, "Care to enlighten me?"

Natasha exchanged a look of shock with Steve, not daring to turn around. American? Steve mouthed, Natasha nodding in confirmation.

"The Cold War," Natasha whispered, leaning into Steve's shoulder, "Illya is Russian."

"You know Peril?"

Natasha refused to look over her shoulder, although it would be so easy. So goddamn easy.

"Mister Kurakyin is in a better place now, Mr. Solo, believe me," Zola mocked, "Miss Teller as well. Quite resilient under the knife too, I may add. Natasha heard the rattle of chains, the pull and squeak of leather accompanied by deep grunts.

"I'm afraid we weren't able to save a memory of them in our book, as you so kindly fried dear Uncle Rudy, Mr. Solo. But we'll be able to preserve your legacy, and since you're just so special, we've decided to show off your beauty in full Technicolor!"

So that was why the page was blank. This Napoleon Solo, who was currently behind her and most likely prepared for torture, was to receive a page all for himself, to show off his wounds in all their glory. Suddenly, Natasha wanted to throw up again, her stomach churning. She felt Steve place a comforting hand on her back, starting to rub small circles around her shoulders, own her spine.

"Flattery, while lovely on a first date, won't get me into bed, unfortunately for you. But I must commend you for trying, you did a swell job-"

The jibe was cut off by a pained cry, the high buzz of electrical currents. As the man shouted, Natasha chose to turn around, motioning for Steve to do the same.

A young man in his twenties was strapped to a chair, wrists, ankles and head kept down with lengths of thick bron leather. Electrodes were taped t his temples, his body arching off teh chair desperately with each wave of shocking pain. The single bulb Natasha had noticed when they first walked in was still swinging, and she could get a glimpse of dark hair and pale skin.

"I never thought I'd say this, Peril, but boy am i glad to see you." With that, napoleon Solo let his chin drop to his chest, eyes fluttering closed as he promptly passed out.

"Finally," Natasha heard Zola mutter, "the man just wouldn't shut up, no matter what we tried-"

"Who did they work for?"

The computer seemed taken aback by Natasha's abrupt change of subject, "I don't think you're in a position to dem-"

"Shut up or start talking, tin can!" Natasha barked, glowering at the screen, "Solo, Kurakyin and Teller. Who did they work for?"

A moment of silence. Solo's grunts turned to yelps, and by the time Natasha extracted an answer, the word was practically drowned out by his screaming. It made her wonder if Solo was aware of his surroundings, if he was able to scream himself hoarse while out cold.

"U.N.C.L.E."

"You have no arms to break. Tell me who they worked for."

"If you don't believe me, fine. Ask your precious Director then."

The screen blanked, leaving Natasha and Steve to stare dumbfounded at theri expressions. Napoleon's screaming echoed in the cavernous lab, along with sparks and pops from teh chair. Natasha was certain she could smell smoke, and she watched nonchalantly as the chair Solo was in caught fire.

Right. He was still tied up.

Coughing, she and Steve jumped at the straps, futilely digging into the leather. Now Natasha could add a manicure to the list of things Steve owed her.

"Thought you were a super soldier!" Natasha groaned as she clawed at teh strap on Napoleon's left wrist. Steve was having no luck with the strap across his forehead, freezing as Napoleon shok viciously with another jolt of electricity. Natasha had to raise herself on her toes to reach, but she yanked the wires free after failing to get a good grip. At the same time, Steve finally tore the bonds apart, catching Solo as he rolled quite gracefully from the chair and into Steve's arms.

As they raced outside with the beginning of a house fire on their heels, Napoleon stirred. Steve had slung the surprisingly bulky man over his shoulder, and after a few minutes of his forehead banging against his thigh, Steve resorted to carrying the man as if he were a bride. His hand hung limp over Steve's arm, his head lolling back to expose a pretty neck, Adam's Apple bobbing with each gasp for breath. The agent's clothes made it through unscathed; Natasha had to admit that this Napoleon Solo was devilishly handsome, even after barely escaping torture.

The heat of the fire was on their backs as they left the base, and Natasha wanted to laugh as Napoleon began mumbling in his sleep:

"Damn, Peril. I left my jacket in there."

Carefully, Natasha felt his forehead, flames of heat licking at her knuckles. She pulled her hand away. Sure, they had just escaped a fire, but was it normal for one to be so hot? No pun intended, of course.

Actually, yes. Pun _totally_ intended. Napoelon Solo was a total babe, and Natasha was not one to deny herself the pleasures of life (which seemed to involve rescuing beautiful men from sentient computers hellbent on taking over the world, but she considered it a perk.)

"You know," Steve finally piped up after they trekked a good few feet from the building, I was honestly hoping I'd hold someone else like this-"

"We have to find him first, Rogers." Natasha reminded him, her eyes landing on Napoleon Solo's sturdy form, "Besides, it seems you have men falling for you left and right."

"Nat, you know I like women too-"

"I know, but who else is gonna help Clint with that damn dog of his?"

"Very true," Steve commended, "Just don't tell the team? I have a feeling some of them might not get it." Natasha nodded. Even though Steve was close with the troop as a whole, only she and Sam knew of Steve's preferences. It wasn't a bad thing, in fact, Natasha quite enjoyed scoping out guys with him, all the while trying to find that special woman or man for Steve to spend the rest of his life with- once he was done with this whole 'Captain America' thing, of course. Now, as she thought about it, Napoelon Solo was seeming like a good candidate in case Bucky had hit the hay.

But she kept the thought to herself. It happened to Peggy, adn Steve had been devastated. If it happened again to Bucky, she wasn't sure what his reaction would be.

"Should we call in the team? Have them come pick us up?" Steve suggested, breaking through Natasha's thoughts. He hefted Napoelon in his arms.

"What, is your friend heavy?" Natasha grinned as she pulled out a phone, flipped it open (for such a high-tech team, they sure had some low-tech resources.) After letting it ring for a couple of seconds, she pursed her lips at the voice on the other end.

"Hey, Nat!" Sam Wilson's cheerful disposition crackled like a barricade through the receiver, "Are you two done with the Boy Scouts?"

"Very funny, Sam," Natasha shot back, "but yeah, we're done. We've got a guest with us, so bring the nice car, 'kay?"

"Way ahead of you. Be there in five."

_Click._


	3. At The Base

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! I haven't updated in so long! Hopefully this chapter can tide you guys over until I decide to update something else?
> 
> Enjoy!

Napoleon Solo awoke to a yung woman staring down at him. With her pretty eyes and shoulder-length red hair, he immediately thought that he had scored. That, or his drink was laced. Again. A wave of pain flew from his head down his spine as he attempted to sit up, struggling slightly at the strong hands trying to push him down.

Well, shit.

Napoleon really didn't want to go back in the chair right now. His body ached in places it shouldn't, and he was sure his fingertips still sparked when he tried rubbing the oncoming migraine from his temples. The woman swam in and out of his vision, joined by a man, and Napoleon figured she was his assistant. But he digressed, as she looked sinister enough to be the true mastermind behind his kidnapping from his previous kidnapping.

At least, he knew Victoria was. Gaby was fairly intelligent to have been a double agent while with himself and Illya. This woman? Well, he'd have to wait and see.

The man's strong hands came for him again, and Napoleon tried ducking, only to find himself pressing his face into a soft down pillow.

"Sam! Don't manhandle the guy!"

"Romanoff, we don't know if he's delirious! What if you and Steve brought back a psychopath?!"

If Napoelon Solo was a psycopath, then that probably made Illya the Easter Bunny. Gaby would be an elf, as she was too petite to be Mr. or Mrs. Clause. A chuckle bubbled from his lips, muffled by the soft feathered pillow.

"What did I say?"

"He isn't a psycopath, Sam, I swear!"

"Well, wehn he goes all Freddy Kreuger on us I'm gonna say I told you so."

"While this Freddy guy seems swell, could you let go of me?" Napoleon was shocked to find he even had the nerve to speak. His lips tingled as his tongue wrapped around each syllable, consonants rumbling in his throat. His shoulders sang praise of sweet relief as this Sam fellow withdrew, and Napoleon sat up, cracking his neck loudly. As he glanced up, he felt Sam's hands press on his shoulders again; strong fingers dug into the fabric of his vest, nails biting into skin through the barrier that was his shirt sleeves.

"Don't push yourself, Bond," he instructed, "You got a shit ton of pain meds in your system right now."

Napoelon rolled his eyes. It seemed these people were in league with Victoria. Like, seriously, was everyone out to kill him? What would they gain? The secrets to a fabulous wardrobe was all he could think of. True to word, his vision began to blur, pain hazing in and out of his skull. Kneading his fingers into his forehead, Napoelon leaned over, breath hitching in his throat momentarily. A red carpet caught his eye. The fibers wee frayed on the edges, and with a narrow squint, the spy could make out blue swirls and purple flowers decorating the item.

"Seems you've got your decorating skills from a two-bit horseshoe, eh?" Napoleon smirked, reciprocating two very confused glances.

"What?" was all the woman said, and Napoleon was grasping at straws for her name. It didn't come, just like the thought of him actually saying something so absurd. He had no idea what it even meant.

"You know, Peril, I'm not so sure myself," Napoleon's lips twitched into a playful smirk. Sam chuckled, and Napoleon felt his temples throbbing. The "meds" as Sam called them were wearing off- however, he didn't want to ask for more. He could taste a foreign tang in his mouth, tickling the very back of his throat and right then and there, Napoleon wished he could vomit. 

Napoleon couldn't help but want to laugh at the woman's shocked gasp as gravity stole him from his perch, sending him and his breakfast tumbling to the floor.

 

**********

 

Steve had come downstairs just as Napoelon Solo vomited all over the carpet. It didn't really bother him, though; the carpet in most of the rooms of the base were extremely ugly. It wouldn't hurt to give them a makeover or redecorate. He bounded over in a two leaps before Napoelon had crumpled completely, nearly knocking Natasha over as she struggled to support his head from connecting with the floor.

"Did you give him some medication?" Steve asked.

"For the pain and stuff," Sam replied, and Steve grunted as he helped Natasha lay him back down on the couch- chaise, whatever the fuck it was called. He didn't really care, although if Tony were here, he'd go off on a spree of proper pronunciation and bullshit like that. Napoelon's clothes were roughed up, with a tear in one of his shirt sleeves. His suit vest and tie were still utterly pristine, a feat which impressed the super soldier. He had a bit of sick on his chin, which Steve tentatively reached up and wiped away with his thumb.

Natasha smirked, "When did you become a doting mother?"

Steve couldn't help the blush that was coming. Really, it was instinct. He had done it with Peggy whenever she had food on her face, or with Bucky when he was on one of those trips during which he just cried and cried and he wiped away his tears. Really, it was a way to comfort. No reason why Napolen wouldn't need it, especially considering what he went through just recently.

"He needs help, Nat."

"Uh-huh."

"Nat."

"Okay, am I missing something?" Sam interjected, raising an eyebrow at Steve.

"Fill you in later," Steve sighed, running a hand through his blond hair, eyeing Napoelon's chest as it moved with deep breaths. _Good_ , Steve thought, _he's still breathing_.

Now they just had to wait for Napoleon to wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I edited this chapter, and will hopefully be able to update my other works soon. I know it's been a while since I've done so, but please bear with me, as the holidays are coming up (I might do a little Christmas fic/crossover fic thing later!)
> 
> Thanks!


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